


Deep Woods Pack

by apresmoi89



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Wolf Blood - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha - Freeform, Dominance, F/M, Romance, Shapeshifter, Shifter, Vampire Diaries - Freeform, Werewolf, Wolves, YA, omega - Freeform, tease, teenwolf, twilight - Freeform, wolf - Freeform, wolfblood - Freeform, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apresmoi89/pseuds/apresmoi89
Summary: Stuck in the Mississippi River Delta, Atticus’ fate was sealed in her Wolfpack before she was walking. When two strangers arrive in her barely a town, everything begins to change.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

My veins burned as my nostrils flared with the scent of what could only be described as one thing—male. Mahogany tones highlighted the musk of what could only be one thing, one species. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, making fists to keep my fingers from stretching and changing—

I stopped the thought by closing my eyes. They burned, and I knew that my irises had already transformed. Saliva began to thicken in my mouth, and my gums itched with the threat of bursting. I needed a distraction, but all I could smell was that hormonally intoxicating scent. The room was crowded suddenly with too many sounds and smells. Every classmate had become a potential witness, a casualty, should this be the moment I lost that battle between my subconscious and my conscious will.

“Atti,” a voice said next to me. “Atti, are you understanding any of this?” Female, the higher pitched voice suggested. “I’m not sure that I am. You’re good at this math stuff. Atti—“

I finally placed the voice as Shelley, my best friend and confidant. She was asking me about our class assignment. We are in school and working on our first group work of the year. My fists relaxed in my pockets, veins beginning to cool. I took out some hand sanitizer from my book bag, quickly using it to help confuse the scent that had sent me wild. 

“Are you okay, girl?”

I began to feel more confident in my resolution. My eyes met hers, and I forced a toothless smile, just in case. “Yeah, great,” deep breath. “Just worried about the upcoming flu season.”

She glanced down at my paper. “What about the worksheet? Do anything about that?” Shelley tossed her blonde hair around then rested her head in her palm. “You know one of us has to be able to do this. I’d think we’re screwed, but I know you like to play dumb in class.”

This is the beginning of our junior year in the smallest town on the planet. Our high school is so small that there are only enough students for a single class of thirty for each grade. There are no changing classes except or lunch and electives because the teachers rotated to us. Everyone knows everyone else and where they come from, including families and land. Both are equally important. Which brought me back to the scent, the smell of no one I had ever known before. It was rare to meet anyone new, but even rarer to smell someone so unique.

The thought of the smell brought a whiff of it back to me again. It had lost some of its pull with the rubbing alcohol of the sanitizer, so I poured more onto my hands and let it do its job. Magic trick, I thought with a smile.

I didn’t even notice him standing in front of the class.

“Lord Jesus,” Shelley swore under her breath. I jerked my head to see her staring toward the board, the classwork forgotten.

“What—“ My voice caught in my throat. He looked so… wild. His hair was a strange mix of black shades, sweeping his shoulders and sharply contrasting the white marble of his skin. His lanky build towered over the smaller Mr. Dixon by almost a foot. Both his jeans and white T-shirt were browned with dirt, his shoes worn and barely intact.

My eyes were locked with his, a solid shape forming inside of me by the second. The brown of his eyes were clearing into sharper focus, and his shoulders began to square off. The veins in my chest radiated a hot burn through my arms and legs. I fought the urge to stretch them, the solid shape just underneath my skin. 

“Atti—“

“What!” I yelled in a half-crazed voice. The classroom froze. The boy closed his eyes. My heart stopped its pounding through my body, allowed me to look at Shelley.

I saw a blur in the corner of my eye. “Come back here!” Mr. Dixon called after him.

“Atti, you are acting so strangely today.” Shelley shuffled through her textbook pages and would not look at me. “If you don’t want to help me, it’s fine. No need for theatrics.”

The bell rang suddenly, and it was time for break. I could not stay in the school. If he came back, I wasn’t so sure how long my resolution would hold out. How could I stand to be in the room with him when simply the lingering of his scent was still making my body hum with adrenaline? “I think I’m feeling sick, Shell. I’m just going to go home.”

Shelley raised her eyebrow, giving me a meaningful look. I began to collect my things, putting them quickly into my bag. “Since when do you get sick?”

“Since now!” I snapped and rushed toward the door.

My feet carried me out of the building and past the athletic facilities to the line of trees ending the school property. I passed anyone who was dumb enough to be outside in the heat.

My legs leaped and lunged me forward through the thick of the forest. I did not have to stop to dodge briars or fallen limbs because my body catapulted me in the direction I needed to go every time. My breathing became less labored as I ran because my heart had begun to connect with the rhythm of my stride. The decay of foliage and the green of the pines filled my nostrils and cleared the last feelings of drunkenness.

I felt alive. This was all I needed. Just a run to center me, to calm the overactive imagination.

I kicked off my shoes mid-stride then crouched and sprung at the base of the tree. The sticky bark clung to my thin Walmart T-shirt. My mind whispered to tear it off, caught in the throes of my baser instincts. There was no need for clothing here. I continued to let my shirt catch, my legs getting scratched as well. I knew from experience that it was nothing my body would not heal by the time I reached my perch.

My perch was two intersecting limbs that perfectly cradled my rear but also allowed me the freedom to move quickly if needed. Resting my back against the tree, I propped my legs onto adjacent limbs. A quick examination confirmed that all scratches had healed leaving my smooth tan skin unscathed. My heart soared in the tree tops, higher than every squirrel nest. I wiggled my toes in the pure joy of embracing this primal mood.

“Well, this is a good spot.”

I feel sideways, my body dangling momentarily in the air before my fingers grabbed onto another limb. I could hear my pulse in my ears, and my eyes burned with the force of that pulse. When I opened them, my original spot was at least ten feet above me.

Branches creaked to the right of me until his face settled in my view. His pale skin nearly glowed as his long hair curtained the face looking down at me—a face that was all sharp angles and bone structure. “So it’s true then,” his smile widened. 

My upper lip curled, and my gums began the internal itching. My eyes burned at him, but his smile never wavered as his eyes changed from the muddy brown to a tawny copper with chords of eerie yellow. Almost identical to the ones I could feel sharpening the colors and dimensions around us.

“You’re like me.”

At this, I pulled myself onto the tree limb, balancing my weight in a crouch. I felt vibration in my chest, the only warning that a growl would part my lips a second later. The low growl twisted my face in anger. I flexed my hands, gripping the tree limb and trying to center myself.

“Easy princess,” he laughed and leaned against the tree trunk. The laughter calmed his eyes, and they were murky once again in just a blink.

The intoxicating scent from him clung around us in the still summer air. The heat made the smell stay in my nose, once again making the shape begin to take form inside of me. She was there, looking out of my eyes and into his.

His features had become serious, his eyes once again gold and copper. Shoulders rigid and posture straight, almost mirroring mine, he said in a muted low voice, “You haven’t changed yet.”

Words had already left me. She was rising and beginning to cloud what was left of my human thoughts. She also saw that we were in a tree. I had to get down before I shifted. There would be no avoiding the sixty foot fall.

“What’s your name?” His voice had an edge of fear. Not moving an inch, focusing only on me, “Concentrate on that, your identity.”

My wolf smelled the fear and liked the aroma spiking his male musk. She wanted very conflicting things from him, and I just wanted him to go away. Or maybe come closer—

“Your name!” He raised his voice.

“Atticus!” I tried to yell back, but it came out in a strange growl.

“Concentrate, Atticus. Where do you live?”

I could see the farm house with its peeling white paint and green trim in my mind. I saw the pecan trees surrounding it and the field littered with cattle next to that. “Sullivan Plantation,” I choked out.

“Atticus, what are your parents’ names?”

The wolf did not like the situation at all, and she began to panic. Why are we in a tree? What was this male doing here, giving us orders? Another growl ripped my mouth open and lunged me forward. I landed squarely on the tree branch, now level with him. His eyes burned and his lips snarled. A growl that impressed me curled through the air. Our wolves wanted to dance, and there would be nothing else until they got their way.

That was when the limb cracked, snapping underneath me. I freefell until my head hit a limb and kept falling. He was falling above me, face first. I tried to reach for a limb or at least to turn, but my wolf was trapping me, locking me into a fear to dumbing to move. He was close to me now, reaching out. I reached up, but our fingertips weren’t close to touching. 

I howled. My throat opened and howled in pure despair. I closed my eyes and accepted death.

I heard the distinct sound of my ankle snapping before I felt fingers wrapped around it and my weight relying completely on that grasp. The pain and the abrupt stop with my head teetering merely ten feet above the forest floor cleared my thoughts and sent her back to the center of myself.

Swears from above me made me try to curl my upper body to see the boy’s body, tangled on a limb, desperately holding me with two hands. He groaned while sweat beaded off of his face and traveled down his arms.

“Oh, Lord,” I groaned seconds before my ankle slipped through his sweaty hands and my fall ended. I rolled with the impact, letting my body tumble shoulder-first. When I stopped, I didn’t make myself move from laying on my back.

He landed in a crouch closer to the tree trunk, just out of reach. My eyes didn’t leave his figure. I made no noises as his eyes blinked back into their wolf gaze, and he made a slow crawl toward me. His face was all instinct, nostrils flared and mouth slightly parted.

I tried not to respond to his aggressive stance, but my wolf would not allow him to be above us. Part of me was simply tired and hurt, but another part that was taking control agreed that there could be no misunderstanding. Putting the majority of my weight on one leg, I brought myself to a precarious standing position. Not to be outdone, he also stood, edging closer with those intense eyes and hands loose by his side.

Only a foot away now, I rushed him, lunging to knock him off of his feet. We landed, me on top with my legs squared on his chest, trapping his arms. My hands pushed his shoulders into the ground. He snarled and gnashed his teeth as he tried to push forward against my hold. In a crazed impulse, I also lowered my head to growl into his face. I proudly held my position, even as I finally felt my canines extending with each growl. His scent had changed and become sharper. Your smell betrays you, I thought smugly at his fear.

He stopped fighting me and turned his head to the side. I could see his pulse jumping with the throbbing veins of his neck. I didn’t have to, but I could not refrain from biting that neck. I dug my teeth into the crook between his neck and shoulder. He snarled and bucked underneath me, and I grabbed some of his dark hair on the ground.

It was a mistake to give up any control over his body because an arm wrenched free to grab a handful of my crimson curls. I snarled and gave a quick yip. We rolled onto our sides, faces even and eyes boring into one another. Our growls quieted. My wolf was content to leave this as a draw—for now—as I was injured and not at my best. It was the smarter choice to becoming more injured.

We both collapsed, and I loosened my grip on his hair. His grip also lessened, but he started to feel his fingers through the texture of my shoulder-length hair. I studied the quiet concentration on his face, memorizing every reaction and feature.

“I am submissive to no one,” he mumbled formally.

“As I am not submissive to you,” I returned.

His eyes watched mine, and I detected flecks of gold that were not there earlier. “You have blue eyes,” he said quietly.

“So?”

He yanked on one of my curls.

“Yow!” I rolled sideways a few times to distance myself from him.

“So, no change yet?” He sat up.

I pushed myself up but acknowledged that I would never have a height advantage over him. “You got a name, intruder?”

The corner of his mouth tugged with a smile. “Answer for an answer?”

I looked forward, away from his stare. “No, not yet,” I responded to his question.

“You’re sixteen. It will be any day.”

“Name?” I snapped.

“See, your temper is what gives it away most. Your eyes are changing every time you raise your voice, which only happens the last week before your first transformation.” I snarled at his speech. “Fine, fine… It’s Henry.”

I glanced in his direction. “Henry?”

“Yep,” he rubbed the back of his head with his palm.

“What are you doing here?”

“When do you turn sixteen?” He returned.

I heard his footsteps signal that he was moving closer. “Stop,” I growled low without looking at him.

“I want to look at your ankle,” he said softly but had stopped moving.

I swallowed hard around his thick scent. The cedar and mahogany notes were fogging my mind again, and I was aching in deep places that no human would ever feel hurt. “I don’t want you near me.”

“Well then, we’re going to be stuck here awhile, Atticus, because there is no way you can walk from here.”

I admitted to myself that not only was he right but that I also liked how my name sounded when he pronounced every syllable instead of the butchered short cut some people used that omitted the vowel in the middle. “July.”

Henry whistled and understood the question I was answering. “I’m impressed. You’ve made it through two full moons without changing? I didn’t know that was possible. That’s some control you’ve got there.” His breathing was closer though I had not heard any foliage disturbed underneath him. “It must bother you to lose control.”

I snapped my teeth to my right where he had said his last sentence, but he was no longer there. I inhaled sharply. Henry was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

I could smell motor oil before I heard the 4-wheeler’s purr plowing through the forest. This would be my only chance at rescue as phones are completely useless out here. The only place with service is the school, and we aren’t allowed to use them there. Except for these rare emergencies, the only people I would need to talk to I could wait until I saw them or use the house phone line.

A deep whiff of the air confirmed my hunch. I raised my head to the sky and released a howl. Not a dramatic one, just a short “Here I am.”

When the 2007 Can-Am Outlander came into view, my uncle’s thick frame steered toward me with an unconcerned grin. Killing the engine, he swung his leg over to dismount the big ATV. “What’d ja do this time, Atti?” His toothy smile emphasized his twangy accent. Uncle Gunnis was covered in grease and mud, and he was wearing what I liked to call the local uniform—blue jeans and a loose camouflage T-shirt.

“Not my fault,” I tried not to whine.

“Yeah, yeah,” he reached to help me up, taking both of my hands into his. With little effort, he led me to the Can-Am and heaved me onto the rear rack. My purple ankle hovered in the air by the driver seat. A quick examination proved what I thought. “It’s broken.”

“Why hasn’t it healed?”

Uncle Gunnis plopped into the seat. “Broken bones don’t set themselves, darlin’.”

I groaned, scooted myself closer behind him, and gripped the rack behind me with both hands. Gunnis popped the 4-wheeler into gear, and we lunged forward, accelerating quickly. We were riding in the direction of our family plantation, a few miles from the forest behind the school. Once out of that forest, we crossed onto Tullar land with more acres of cotton than any other private farmer in the state of Mississippi. We cruised through the cotton field, down the widest row, speeding to Sullivan land—home.

Gunnis waved at Mr. Tullar on his Polaris RZR as we rode by, but I couldn’t risk the pleasantry. Falling out of a tree was enough for me today. Mud was slinging up on us from fresh irrigation. Gunnis gave no consideration to my condition as we entered the final threshold of woods to our land. Deep ruts filled with water wound through trees, thorns reaching to catch on my legs that stuck out into the air. My knuckles began to tingle with the effort of holding my weight and gripping tightly to the metal rack. The engine revved unexpectedly and pulled my attention around Gunnis’ shoulders.

“No!” I yelled in protest, but even I could barely hear my voice over the roar.

The Can-Am careened over one embankment, air born for a glorious moment and filled with Gunnis’ loud cheers. My body lifted from the metal bars, my hurt ankle shooting pain through my nerves as it wedged into Gunnis’ armpit. I kept myself above the pain. When we landed a couple of yards from the wood line, my tailbone pushed me over the edge of calm.

I opened my mouth to scream, but a grease-covered hand appeared over my mouth simultaneous to the engine cutting. The scream died to a moan. Gunnis’ other hand stayed firmly on the handle, his upper body stretching to accommodate. My nose could barely smell anything over the motor oil, so I tucked my hair behind my ears. Sensing my understanding, Gunnis pulled away from me and resituated his grip.

Beyond the constant shaking of the cicadas, rustling corn, and barnyard sounds—past the soundtrack of the land—I could hear the soft, harsh tone of a man. “We didn’t come here to play games. How do you expect us to find peace if you can’t even think before you act?”

“She caught me off guard.” Henry. “You were the one who said their cubs are homeschooled.” His voice was a nice baritone. The familiarity was growing too quickly, his voice too recognizable.

“That’s him,” I barely whispered into Gunnis’ neck.

A low rumble vibrated through his chest.

“By the main house,” I scooted closer, squeezing my thighs around his and dropping both feet behind his legs. “He has an older wolf with him.”

A loud bark erupted from him, snapping at the air. “Silas!” He yelled. I barely had a warning to wrap my arms around his waist as the ATV lunged forward. The trail cut through the field, corn stalks slapping our legs. Abruptly, we emerged beneath a large pecan tree and halted by its trunk. An old white two-story farm house was just beyond the tree’s reach. A gravel driveway, at least a mile long to the high way, lay in front of the steps to the house. On those steps stood Henry, his swimmer’s build tense and observant. The playful smile from earlier was an out of place memory when I studied this boy’s grimness and the vacancy of his amber eyes.

Gunnis had already moved off the Can-Am, but he hesitated before turning to help me down. I shook my head once to signify that I was fine, then I leaned back onto my bottom with my left leg in the air. Swinging the leg onto the right side, I angled myself parallel to the porch for the best view. When or if it came to it, I knew that my survival instincts would override the pain to help defend Gunnis who was currently tensed in a predatory manner, fingers beginning to stretch and clench at his side.

“Slow down, Gunny,” the middle-aged man in a black suit said chidingly. His hair was only a shade lighter than Henry’s, and his skin was even paler—almost sickly in direct sunlight. His arms were relaxed, hands in his black dress slacks’ pocket. The white of his shirt was marred with sweat soaking through at his armpits. He had smartly abandoned the tie and jacket onto the railing. Dust decorated the previously shiny shoes. I could still smell the remnants of the polish and aftershave. “You must be Atticus Joan,” he smiled, and it genuinely reflected in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know if I ‘must be’ anyone,” I said in a quietly annoyed tone.

“I can see that we have caught you both off guard, and you have my sincerest apologies.” He licked his lips, and a sharpness pricked at my nose that made my stomach clench in hunger—fear. He was scared, and he knew that we would sense his weakness. My nostrils flared, and I welcomed another deep taste of that fear. 

“Atti?” Gunnis was almost turned completely toward me.

My eyes began to warm and my teeth felt more important than they should have.

“We only want to talk in a civilized manner about…” The man seemed to realize his mistake.

“Atticus,” Gunnis barked.

I moved my attention to him, my dominant. Most of the time, the pack was fairly unconcerned about dominance. The hierarchy only mattered in these moments, moments when one action can influence the whole pack. Gunnis’ eyes had also changed, glowing golds and ambers, and held my eyes. I felt the power of his will trying to push at me, but before the first full body shift, his will could not control the wolf inside of me. In that moment, I could let myself continue to enjoy the most overwhelming urge to taste that man’s fear in a liquid gush of blood, or I could simply submit to the alpha whom I trusted to protect me.

It was that gory image that cleared my mind. I lowered my eyes and made a small whimper in my throat. I would not eat a man. Honest.

Gunnis turned back to Henry and the well-dressed man. “Why are you here?”

Silas smiled confidently, an image only marred by the lingering scent of fear. “To join your pack, as my email said.”

I laughed, unable to help the joyful sound.

“Sorry, don’t check it,” Gunnis’ tone had lightened but did not resume his usually casual, joking tone.

“Of course,” Silas said curtly. “But, as I said in the email, my young cousin and I would like to negotiate the delicate politics of joining your pack.”

Henry’s skin reddened at that, but I decided to stay quiet. There would probably be a time later to ask him about that. Was I hoping for a later? My ankle was purple, swollen, and throbbing again. No, definitely not.

“We can talk inside,” Gunnis motioned to the doorway behind them. “I need to call someone for Atti.” He turned and scooped me over his shoulder before I could protest or save any dignity. I let myself go limp which allowed my face some coverage.

“I hate you,” I mumbled into his greasy shirt, strong body odor accosting me.

He chuckled.

I kept my eyes closed until we were through the green door. The wood floors creaked and shoes clacked as we made our way into the last door of the long open hallway. Gunnis gently dropped me into the first wooden chair he came to and kept walking into the kitchen. There were three long wooden tables in a “U” shape, enough places for twenty people to comfortably eat together.

“Have a seat,” Gunnis called from the other room.

Silas and Henry sat side by side, opposite from me but at the same table. Arm’s reach away, Henry folded his hands in front of him. Their eyes studied me, the curious amber colors taking in the details of both myself and their surroundings.

“You have a strange house,” Henry stated.

“Thank you,” I quipped.

“You’re welcome,” he smirked.

“I don’t live here,” I said shortly.

“Oh?”

“She probably lives on the property but in her nuclear family’s house, Henry,” Silas said matter-of-factly. “The main house is mostly for social functions.”

I nodded, clearly annoyed at his knowledge of us.

“And how are Grady and Elizabeth?”

The names of my parents made my skin prickle. No one had said their names in so long, I had often wondered if everyone had simply forgotten the night it happened. A rise of anger swelled through my veins, then sadness followed like a crashing wave.

Henry’s eyes never left mine, never wavered from the rawness. His observation made my gut wrench, but I matched his gaze. I could feel Silas studying me with less intensity.

“They are fine,” I made my voice steady.

Henry’s strong jaw line clenched and released a few times. I could feel his tension between his shoulder blades, see his hands whitening with an attempt to control his reaction to… what? What I had said? Maybe his anger at the whole situation.

“Beth is on her way, Atti,” Gunnis came back through the doorway. “Henry, could you help her into the front bedroom?”

I glared at Gunnis’ suddenly trusting nature. If he didn’t trust Silas with the details of my parents’ circumstances, then why trust them at all?

Henry simply lifted my chair and carried me, clinging onto the wood, out of the dining room. I cursed and tried to concentrate on not letting my ankle get caught in the doorway. Refusing to look at his face, I cursed again.

“Language, Atticus,” Gunnis reprimanded jokingly.

“Which room?” Henry asked in a barely audible whisper.

I pointed to the door under the staircase which opened into an antique queen bed with a white metal frame. Old quilts piled up at the headboard in the absence of pillows. This was the “infirmary,” if only because this was the room we usually were patched up in.

“Put me down,” I demanded. “Uh, please.”

Henry set me, still in the chair, next to the bed. He made a motion to help me, but I declined. Once in the bed, I dragged myself to the headboard and let myself spread out. After a few deep breaths of the heavy air, I turned my head to the side. He sat in the wood chair, rigid and solemn. “I’m supposed to apologize,” he mumbled.

I just waited, resigned that at least he was entertaining to watch while Beth found her way.

“I’m not going to,” he shook his hair out of his eyes and stared at me. “I did nothing wrong, and I won’t be sorry.”

The summer sounds and heat stretched like sorghum molasses between us.

“I don’t hate you,” I confessed, feeling some of his somberness.

That smile pulled at the edge of his mouth, the pale pink against the white of his teeth. My eyes traveled down his neck where I had bit him, mostly a bruise of my canines. Heat filled every square inch of me, down to the smallest atom. The mark burned me from my core to my eyes. I had marked him. I turned away.

His hand cupped my chin and turned my face gently toward his. He moved no closer but studied my eyes intently. I let myself admit that he was handsome, which only made me want to squirm away from his soft touch.

“Atticus,” Beth appeared in the doorway wearing green scrubs and carrying an over-the-shoulder bag.

Henry ubruptly stood, hands shoved quickly into his jean pockets. He left the room around Beth with no farewell. The burning turned quickly to anger.

Sensing my mood, Beth rushed toward me. “Alright, calm down. We can get this taken care of.”

“Shut the door, please.”

She raised her eyebrow but did as I asked. Privacy was mostly an illusion when everyone had heightened senses. “Falling out of trees, Atti? You should really find a new hobby sweetheart.” She began rummaging through her duffle bag and placing items on the bed.

“It was his fault I fell,” I mumbled and closed my eyes.

“Why? Were you smooching in the tree?” She chuckled and lifted my left leg by the calf.

I grunted. “You know we weren’t.”

“Well,” she lightly touched the ankle. “It looked pretty heated a moment ago. And was that a hickey on his neck?”

“It was a dominance thing!” It sounded whiny even o me.

“Alright, keep your panties on. You know it’s just too easy to mess with you.” Beth set my leg on the bed. “I need you to relax for this part. Center yourself with calming thoughts of nature and tranquility.” Her voice changed to a professional, practiced tone, and she moved her right hand to hover over my torso, the other over my hurt ankle. “Focus on my voice. Open yourself.”

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I imagined the forest around my house. I thought of running through the trees and smelling the decomposing leaves under my feet.

Suddenly, I felt a rush of adrenaline and a jerk from my chest. My eyes flashed open and fear washed through me. I was nose-to-nose with a wolf, her eyes staring into mine. Her image was a glowing outline, but I could feel her paws pushing my shoulders down onto the table. I could smell her like a summer rain, like the ozone in a lightning storm. Her blue eyes held streaks of gold in them. They didn’t leave mine as if she were trying to communicate with me. I tried to lift my arm to touch her, but my body was paralyzed.

“Almost done, Atti. Take some deep breaths,” Beth’s voice startled me. I had forgotten she was there.

I swallowed hard. “Can you see her?”

Beth was somewhat visible through the wolf. “Of course,” she went still. “But you can see it? Now?”

I tried to nod, but when I did, it was the wolf who nodded instead of me. My eyes grew bigger, and my pulse hammered in my throat. Hair stuck to my face, sweat seeping from every pore.

Beth moved her hand along the wolf’s back, and I felt her touch as if it were me she pet. “I can feel her fur, so soft.”

“She is me, isn’t she?” My voice rasped.

“Yes, I’ve been able to see her for months now, but never like this.” Beth touched the tip of the wolf’s ear. “Most shift before their animal becomes so solid. Do you feel her weight? You see how real she is?” Beth moved her hands away. “Your wolf is ready, Atticus. You can’t stop her any more.”

Panic. I didn’t want to change. I was afraid. It was an unexplainable fear that had been haunting me for months now. Even during the day, I could feel the cycle of the moon and its pull at my atoms. Had I been reacting more aggressively lately? Had I been short tempered with everyone? How many times has my eyes changed unnoticed by me?

“I need to warn you,” Beth whispered. “I am done with the healing, and I am going to close your chakras. Usually when I do that your wolf recedes into your aura as only a spirit.” She exhaled nervously. “But I don’t know what will happen right now. If I close your chakra, she may try to get out—“

“And make me shift?” I hated the fear in me. I hated the knowledge that everyone in the house now knew my fear. How can you be strong and fierce while you drown in fear of something that has always been a part of you? It was not like I had not known about the change my whole life. I had grown up with a large family of shifters only a short walk away. My cousins had shifted already. It was only supposed to hurt the first time. I licked my lips to taste my own fear in the air. My wolf echoed the movement.

“You know I have been on your side of this fight, but if it’s not today, then it will be tomorrow. Or the next day.” She shook her head. “It’s not healthy to fight yourself. It could cause a riff between you and your wolf. You are not your parents, Atti—“

A deep snarl curled back my mouth, and my wolf turned her head to Beth to deliver the same warning.

“You can’t go in there,” I heard Gunnis from the hallway.

“Henry! Stop this!” Silas barked.

I heard growls and the sounds of a tussle.

“Concentrate on this,” Beth held her hands over my stomach. “Try to relax.” Sweat dripped from her brow, and she pushed all her weight down onto my wolf.

The pain was sharp and immediate. It bowed my spine and turned my head to the ceiling in unspeakable excruciation. A loud howl erupted from my throat, ripping air from my lungs, one howl after another. Another howl joined mine from the hallway, chorusing my pain.

My fingertips stretched and my leg muscles cramped. Sharp twisting came just under every inch of my skin. My very bones ached, and I continued to cry out. Canine teeth already jutted from my mouth, and my eyes burned with my veins.

“Atticus, stop!” Gunnis appeared beside me. His will put force behind his words, pushing that force down his hand and into me. Golden eyes bored into mine. The stretching and cramping ceased, the twisting calming. My alpha commanded and my body obeyed. That alone meant the battle had been lost. Beth was right; any day, I would shift.

I couldn’t tell if I had been crying or if it was only sweat, but the bed was soaked around my head. I took a deep, solid breath that stung my throat.

A large shaggy black wolf leaped onto the end of the bed. He stared at me with amber and gold eyes. I saw the question in them as he sat on his haunches next to my feet. Beth laid a quilt over me and dabbed a cloth on my forehead and neck.

“Do you want me to move him out?” Gunnis motioned a thumb at the large wolf.

A low rumble filled the air. Henry wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m okay, I think,” my eyes felt heavy.

“No funny business,” Gunnis threatened. “Now sleep, Atti.”

His will pressed like a heavy cloud. Before I was completely under, the wolf laid beside my legs and whimpered softly. My hand found his paw and cupped it loosely. Sleep pulled at me until there was nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

Before I opened my eyes, I knew I was not alone. Musky cedar filled my nostrils; my fingertips felt straw hair, weaved into tangles. A heart rate sped up and breath became shallow. There was the slightly sharp scent of fear, but the even more familiar smell of rejection. Rejection smells similar to defeat, having similar tones. High school was full of that smell, but it was out of place around home. Rejection by the pack was the ultimate punishment short of death, and I had only seen that once.

“Don’t yell,” a muffled voice whispered.

I sat up straight, my hands pushing me back against the metal headboard in one motion. I was crouched, weight resting on my legs before I could process what was happening. I raised my head and tried to think instead of reacting. Peering through my wild curls, I saw Henry tangled in a navy colored sheet, laying on his stomach perpendicular to me. His eyes were alert, but his posture seemed relaxed like he had practiced separating his feelings from his body language.

“Get out,” I said mildly. I tried to keep my breath even. I would not panic. There was only an almost complete stranger in the same bed with me.

“There’s something you should know first,” he raised his head and turned to rest his head in his hand, propping it on his elbow. The blanket exposed his pale upper chest. His scent changed to a sweeter tone. “I don’t have clothes.” His smile was perfectly pearly stretched ear-to-ear, daring me not to find humor in the situation.

“Atti?” At the door was my younger cousin, Louisa, with her blue jean shorts, T-shirt, and tennis shoes. She had her book bag flung over one shoulder, her brown hair ponytailed to accent her round features and grey-blue eyes. She looked between us then scented the air. Puzzled, she said, “Who’s this?”

I stood abruptly beside the bed looking for more distance between myself and Henry. “He’s not staying.”

“He’s not pack,” Louisa said almost to herself. “Where did he come from?”

Henry was already gathering sheet around his waist and rolling awkwardly off the bed which creaked in protest.

Louisa ignored me to watch him. At fourteen, she was mesmerized by boys—any boy—but especially a nude one. It wasn’t that nudity wasn’t uncommon among the pack; it was simply that we had seen the same people nude our entire lives. And there was a look in Henry’s eyes that said nudity meant more to him than us. He was not blood, not pack, and he did not share our understanding that nudity was to be accepted in such situations and ignored.

“I’m Henry,” he shifted his hold on the sheet and offered his right hand to her.

Louisa’s mouth gaped as she gawked at his chest.

I ignored all of that paleness and muscles—especially the soft outline of his abs—to jerk that hand, and I pulled him behind me as I marched out of the infirmary and into the hallway. My nerves tingled through my whole body. I let go of him and crossed my arms under my bust. I squared myself in front of him, stubbornly refusing to share his smile.

Louisa appeared in the doorway behind him, a blush still tinting her cheeks. “We’re going to be late for school,” she made an effort not to look at Henry. “You can’t go like that,” she motioned at my clothes.

Before looking, I remembered the mud from the 4-wheeler ride and the sweat from my effort not to change. My shirt was in ruins, skin exposed from falling out of the tree. I shifted the weight off of my ankle subconsciously, but then decided to give it a quick yet careful rotation. Of course, it was fine; Beth had done her job.

“I heard about your fall,” Louisa snickered. “Dad was talking about both of you with Mom for half the night. I heard most of it, but they caught me before I could hear the decision.”

“What are you yapping about?” I started for the bedroom behind me, opposite the infirmary.

“You know,” Louisa giggled.

Henry looked back at me as I pulled some camo out of the closet and a pair of cut-off jeans. He said nothing when I pushed the door closed enough to change in privacy. “No, I’m sure I don’t.” The remnants of yesterday’s clothes fell to the floor, and I pulled up the slightly small shorts and the oversized T-shirt. I came around the door and held out my open palm to Louisa.

“Are you always this dense?” Henry asked snidely.

Louisa had smacked a hair tie into my hand that I used to gather up the wild curls into a short ponytail on the back of my head. “I don’t have time for your shit,” I started as I looked around the room for my book bag. “I have to get to school. I already missed half a day because—"

“Because I walked in, right?” He stepped towards me but stopped as if he realized I did not want his half-naked self near me. “How do you not see what’s happening?”

I finally decided that I left my bag at school, so I walked past Henry, heading for the front door.

He grabbed my upper arm firmly. My eyes took in those long, bony fingers that could nearly wrap around my entire arm with his hand. When I raised my chin and met his eyes, he was towering over me and his irises were pulsing with molten gold. The warming of my eyes let me know that mine had changed to match his. The tingling, like electric volts shooting across my skin intensified, and it felt like my senses were drowning in the smell of cedar. Pulse in my throat, I met that gaze and held it with all of my strength—or just sheer stubbornness. He was not my alpha, but he wasn’t really trying to submit me. It was starting to become a regular issue to think around him, to stay lucid in close range of him.

“Listen to me, Atticus,” he barely growled out.

I let a snarl curl my lip.

“Something is not right,” he said in a more human voice. “And this—“ he motioned with his head to me “—is making it impossible to think.”

“So stay away from me.” My gut wrenched, teeth clenched. “Go back to the hole you crawled out of and stay away from my pack.”

Henry dropped his hand. I made my way for the door, not stopping to see his face. But there it was again. That smell. Rejection.

I didn’t remember when I began to run. Sometime between the front porch and the first chicken coop. I flew through the air. My feet barely hit the gravel as I leaped towards the wood line, past the corn fields and the horses. Louisa fell into step a few strides behind.

One thing we, the pack, could do is run. When we run, we feel our awareness spread beyond ourselves to the forest, the other animals, and even the earth. I could anticipate which way to move to dodge the smallest root in my path. Though we never spoke of it, we all had this ability. I had seen every member of the pack run as though human skin were only an illusion. My father used to say that I could run before I could crawl.

I avoided outstretched thorns by lunging over them. So long ago, I thought. Nothing has ever been right.

My feet halted abruptly before the forest ended. Barely winded, I turned behind me to Louisa who was just reaching the small glen. Her powder blue T-shirt read “Sweet Things” on the right shoulder, some of the ones they sold at the hair salon in town. “Who?” I pointed at it.

She looked down at the shirt and then back up at me warily. “Jimmy’s mom got it in Greenville last weekend.”

“Jimmy Schuler?” I asked exasperated.

She shuffled her feet and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It was just a birthday present.”

“Nothing more?”

“Of course not,” she crinkled her nose and put her hands on her hips. “What about Henry?”

I felt my shoulders slump a little forward. I had already forgotten him—compartmentalized him. “He’s probably right. Something is happening.” I locked eyes with her. “What is Gunnis saying? He’s your dad.”

“You know he loves to hear himself talk after a few drinks,” Louisa smiled.

“And?” I pressed.

“Silas is my dad’s cousin, his aunt’s son who left the pack when he was eighteen to go find a human life.” Louisa stuck her hands in her shorts’ back pockets. “Dad’s aunt, my great aunt, went with him because of some squabble with her brother, our grandfather.”

I let my mind digest all of the relationships. “So, Silas is your dads’ first cousin, which makes Henry, who?”

She shrugged. “Mom asked, but Simmy and Raylon were going at it over some dumb dolls.”

I sighed, exasperated. Her twin six-year-old brother and sister were a menace on a good day. 

“But Dad didn’t look like he wanted to answer in front of all of us, any ways. He looked at me and Eddie and hesitated.”

I pursed my lips to the side. “He didn’t want you guys to tell me?” I looked around. “Where is Eddie?” Louisa’s older brother was only a few months younger than me, and we three usually arrived at school together. We were the only pack allowed at the public school.

“Dad told him to stay away from the main house. Eddie got pretty worked up about Silas and Henry.” Louisa’s eyes locked with mine. Eddie was less than a month away from his first change. Before the first, he would become more aggressive and ill-tempered. Often the men became even more affected by this because of the newest rush of hormones. Eddie was already beginning to look more muscular, more like his dad. Since Eddie had started the transformation, him and Gunnis were arguing a lot. Once easy-going, our personality could be changed just as much as our physical shape. The sharp smell of fear wafted, but I didn’t need it because Louisa’s eyes wavered with the emotion.

“Let’s just go to class.” And forget about wolves.

Louisa nodded and followed me to the front office. Could we have easily snuck into our classroom and into our seats? Probably. But not without at least one pair of eyes noticing our unusual prowess, and that was one pair too many. I could already sense their growing unease around me, and now Eddie, because humans are too tame to realize the message of their senses to their brain. Danger, their instincts told them. Predator.

Walking through the front office door at what felt like an excruciatingly slow pace, we trotted to the desk of Mrs. Schuler. It’s a very small town.

“Louisa! Don’t you just look pretty in that shirt there!” Mrs. Schuler beamed and cooed.

Louisa lit up and smiled back. “Why, thank you! A sweetheart got this for me.” Louisa had a gift for gab and all the charm of a southern belle. If someone said, “Bless your heart,” I would puke.

Mrs. Schuler laughed. “Now what can I do for you ladies?” She gave me a quick, disapproving once over. I had never sat right with her, not since the time that I had accidentally punched her son for teasing Louisa when we were in the eighth grade. He shouldn’t have been teasing Louisa about her freckles. Some people couldn’t forgive and forget.

“Could we get a slip for class? Some of the goats got out this morning and were munching on Aunt Helena’s roses.” Louisa smiled sheepishly and shook her head. “We got ‘em back in, but there’s no telling what she’s gonna say when we get home.”

Mrs. Schuler made an exasperated sound. “Those goats! I was so glad when Jimmy decided to sell his to your daddy.” She pulled out a book of small pink slips and began to write one out in neat loops of cursive, something I was never good at.

I stuck my hands into the jeans pockets, a brief look confirming that the pockets hung lower than the hem line of the frazzles where they had been cut. I sheepishly tugged on Louisa’s T-shirt. She looked over then down, following my pointing finger to my naked feet. “Oops,” I mouthed when she looked up.

Louisa rolled her eyes and began to fish out a pair of flip-flops from her bag. They were hot pink with small sparkly stones decorating the thongs. Feeling my will to live die, I took them and dropped them to the tile floor with a smack before sliding my feet into them. My feet were tinted with dirt, cuticles brown around my plain nails.

“Here you are,” Mrs. Schuler handed both of the slips to Louisa and avoided me. “Tell your aunt not to be too hard on you, dear.”

“Will do,” Louisa smiled. I followed her out of the front office and into the main hallway. The flip flops clacked with my steps drawing more of my attention to them. “Simmer down, Atti. You’re lucky I carry an extra pair.”

I swallowed my irritation. “Thanks. I’m not really sure where mine ended up.”

“We’ll find ‘em later.” She stopped outside of her homeroom. “Try to keep the drama down today.”

I kept my slow pace, didn’t look back to say, “High school,” and shrugged. I heard her sigh before opening the door to the room. My own classroom was quickly approaching. I inhaled deeply to calm my nerves.

Seriously? I could smell Henry from out here. I let myself lean against the cinder block wall, breathing in his scent. Just his smell made my nerves tingle. I tried to notice other smells, willing my nose to pick up the usual mildew, Clorox, and various body odors of my human classmates. Still there was the almost overwhelming cedar filling me up, making my pulse pound. My hand sanitizer was in my book bag, presumably inside of the classroom. I just needed to make it inside and keep it together long enough to grab it. I dug my nails into my palms, and when that wasn’t enough to make my pulse slow, I smacked myself on the face.

“Ms. Sullivan?”

I cursed silently. Mrs. Boyd was standing in the classroom doorway with her stylish floral dress and brown leather high-heeled boots. Her penciled eyebrows were raised, bright lipstick accenting the displeasure of her face. She held a thick Biology book in one arm, and the other was attached to the door knob. Had she seen me slap myself?

“What are you doing to yourself?”

Oh, Lord. Think, Atti! Wake up! Stop being stupid! It was him. He was making me stupid. I hate him so much. I’m going to kill that—

“Are you awake yet? Ready to join the rest of us?” Her patronizing tone saved me an explanation. She thought I was sleepy, lethargic from oversleeping. Maybe I was.

“Yes, ma’am,” I rushed into the classroom, my new resolution to hate Henry as thoroughly as possible. I noted that he was already sitting next to Jimmy who was giving me a condescending and judgmental look. Holding my breath, I took my usual seat next to Shelley. She was openly staring at me while I pointedly didn’t meet her eyes, looking out the window which only had the view of a concrete courtyard with red iron benches. I pulled out the hand sanitizer and liberally applied it to my hands and then my upper lip. I took a deep, liberating draw of air into my lungs.

“Gross,” Shelley hissed.

The alcohol was working to cover up Henry’s stench, but it was starting to form a headache behind my eyes. Before too long, Shelley and I would have to end our friendship. I had too many secrets already, and they would continue to mount past my ability to create lies to cover them up.

Class carried on much like that—me staring out the window and reapplying the liquid goop as necessary. The teacher never asked me to pay attention, and I knew it was mostly because she had bigger behavior issues in the class than to pick on the quiet student.

The bell rang, and the change-over started. Most of the students went out to use the restroom or cause shenanigans. I stayed in my seat.

“You going to explain your ‘illness?’” Shelley’s voice confirmed my earlier thoughts.

“Stomach bug,” I grumbled and glanced to where Henry was seated, chatting it up with Jimmy.

Shelley’s eyes followed my gaze. “Oh, I see,” she smirked. “Like maybe your first crush?”

My jaw dropped. “God, no!” I looked down at my hands and started picking dirt from underneath my nails. “He’s gross and pale.”

“Where do you get ‘gross’ from all that yummy muscle?” Her eyebrows wiggled.

Conscious that he could hear us no matter what volume I spoke, I decided to stick with a normal tone. “We could be related. Regardless of what most people in this town think, incest is not a part of our family’s game.”

Henry’s shoulders tensed though I couldn’t see his face from this angle.

“Related? Long lost relative come back to the motherland?” Shelley was losing interest quickly without the twinge of romance to the conversation.

“Something like that,” I turned back away from him and concentrated on my friend. “What’d I miss yesterday?”

“Nothing worth hearing about. I know you think school is important, but I’ll never understand why history is relevant to anyone at this school.” Shelley pulled out her lip gloss and applied it with skill to her thin lips.

I respectfully disagreed with her on this. “We live in the Mississippi Delta. How could history be any more relevant to us?” I loved hearing about the history of humans, especially the parts that overlapped or contradicted the history that my parents had taught me. In the main house, there was a basement full of the true histories of this world—histories of wolf born how we had influenced the world of man into what it exists as today.

Shelley gave me an eye roll. “Don’t start,” she flipped her blonde hair. “Are you going to Jarvis’ party on Friday?”

“What’s today?” I searched my thoughts.

“Thursday,” she huffed.

“Probably not.” There were a million and one reasons not to go. Most decidedly, there was just too much going on. Not to mention my recent lack of control.

“Atti, don’t make me drag you there.” Shelley’s strength of will bored into me and dared me to give her a reason. “You could bring Eddie.” She looked around the room. “Where is he?”

His absence left me feeling lonely. “Not sure. Maybe he caught the bug, too?”

Not convinced, she ignored my suggestion and went back to the topic. “Please come? You know my parents won’t let me go without you. I’ll pick you up at seven, and we’ll stay ‘til ten.”

I refused to think about my parents, their rules, or he pack’s thoughts on the human parties. “Sure,” the word escaped my lips. “But no later.”

Class started again after Mr. Dixon strolled into the front of the room. A warm-up math problem was promptly displayed, and I was thankful for the concentration it took to solve the equation.

When the lunch bell rang, I shoved my notebook into my bag and flung it over my shoulder. About to make my way to the door, Henry was suddenly next to our table. Shelley made a very feminine sound of surprise before smiling at him.

He stuck out his hand in the same manner that Silas had yesterday with a surface-level smile. “I’m Henry.”

Shelley hesitated before taking the offered hand. “Right, Atti’s cousin.”

Henry tipped his head back and laughed throatily, a sound that made my stomach do mild flips and my cheeks warm. His eyes nearly sparkled as they looked over at me, seeing my discomfort. “Definitely not her anything.”

The comment bit at my pride. Was he making fun of me? Was he saying that he was too good to be my mate? Or was he just getting back at me for my parting remarks this morning? My wolf, who had been successfully quiet during class, stirred inside me with that prick of temperament shift.

Humor left Henry’s eyes, and I felt more than saw his do the same. Both of our wolves would not let the insults stand, and we were going to have a problem. My sense became more aware of him, and my nostrils flared to inhale him before I could stop the escalation.

“Atti!” Eddie’s booming voice crashed over us. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into the crook of his arm. “I’m out for a day, and there’s already a new kid.” His tone was joking, and it gave the perfect distraction. My wolf did not exactly understand humor.

Henry took in Eddie’s six foot plus frame and friendly demeanor. “I was just introducing myself to Shelley here.”

“I’m Eddie; Atticus’ cousin.” He made no move for a handshake. You don’t offer to shake another wolf’s hand unless you meant for a dominance tango of sorts to begin. Since I was sure that Eddie was trying his hardest to be my rock, it would be stupid to start anything at this point. “Welcome to Rolling Fork.”

Shelley moved her purse further up her shoulder. “Well this has been great,” she emphasized with sarcasm, “but I’m starving, and today is grilled cheese day.” She moved between us. “Coming?”

“We’re behind ya,” Eddie said cheerfully.

“Whatever,” Shelley walked out without looking back. The classroom was cleared of everyone but us wolves.

Eddie released me from his semi-hold and spoke evenly. “Look, I’m not usually the one to give talks on self-control but pull it together.” He lowered his brow at Henry. “Stop baiting Atticus. You’re to put all of us, the whole pack, in a position that won’t end well for anyone. We go to school to get away from who we are, if only for a few hours. Stop trying to screw that up for us.”

Henry shoved his hands in his pockets and actually looked sheepish. “You’re right.”

I tried to hide my shock.

Henry met my gaze directly.

My wolf surged, and I growled.

“I’m sorry,” his eyes glowed golden amber and contradicted his words.

“Atticus,” Eddie panted. His eyes were changed, his hands in fists.

I closed mine and forced myself to speak to her in a soothing tone. He’s not worth it, I tell her. He is no one. She gave me the distinct impression that I was lying to myself, especially with his aroma so close, but she retreated into whatever recess she usually hid into inside of me. When I opened my eyes, Henry was still staring at me. “Okay,” I relaxed visibly.

Henry sniffed the air. “She’s gone?” He sounded doubtful.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Just like that?” He was even more skeptical.

“That’s Atti,” Eddie tried to joke.

“How?”

I watched his eyes and found traces of his other intelligence still hovering behind them. I may have behaved, but his wolf was just below the surface. “I asked her to leave.”

“And she did? Your wolf just left?”

“I mean,” I shuffled my stance, “she never really leaves me.” Our wolves are a part of us.

“But you—what—asked her nicely?” Henry crossed his arms.

I’m not sure if it was his defensive stance that gave it away to me, or maybe it was just his complete unawareness of wolf culture. Or maybe it was how he was more comfortable around Shelley and Jimmy than Silas. My mind put together the pieces while his eyes started to avoid me and Eddie. “You were raised by humans,” I accused.

Henry took a step back, subconsciously retreating from my candor.

Eddie laughed richly. “No way! That would be suicidal, even homicidal.”

Henry was silent, and I knew I was right. “Silas found you?” My voice was softer, and a new emotion—pity—filled me. It swallowed me like the lonely absence of my parents.

Eddie stopped laughing. “Dude, that’s messed up.”

Henry wouldn’t meet my steady gaze. I studied the dark half-moons under his amber eyes and inhaled the faint saltiness like an ocean of pain hid inside of him. I knew that smell and the feeling of my own ocean that threatened to pull me out, an under toe of horrors, secrets, and darkness. I pictured the bloody night that had created that ocean, a flash of fangs, fur, and screams.

Henry’s eyes met mine tentatively, and I thought for a brief instant that he might be able to see the monsters of my ocean because of the acrid taste of fear wet on my tongue. Impossible, I chastised myself. He’s thinking of his own horrors.

“So, now that we’ve promised to get along,” Eddie’s hand slipped into mine, “let’s go eat.” His jovial tone pulled my head above water. I smiled up to the closest person I could call a brother. He led the way out of the classroom but dropped my hand before we entered the hallway (no need to give the popular incest belief about our family any fuel).

A cacophony of noise met us in the cafeteria. Henry followed us without comment. While we waited in line, I noticed for the first time that he was wearing a pair of unstained pleated khakis and a black polo that accented his lanky yet muscular form. I eyeballed the shoes, noting to myself how the big tongue and wide flat sole made his feet look rather large. 

“What?” He challenged.

I glanced at Eddie who had moved a few feet closer toward the serving buffet. While scooting myself to close the gap, I answered, “Nothin’.” Even if I had vowed to hate him, there was no reason to be mean.

“It’s the clothes, man,” Eddie said without turning around.

Henry looked confused. “What about them?”

“They’re fine,” I lied sweetly and tried to smile.

His eyebrow shot up quizzically.

Once seated with Shelley, Jarvis, and his sister, Jacqueria, at a window table, I began to immediately devour the grilled cheese sandwich and Brunswick stew. Eagerly dunking the sandwich into the tomato broth, almost half of my lunch was eaten before I tuned into the conversation.

Jarvis was excitedly dishing details about his “get-together” for tomorrow night. Jarvis pulled out a double-sided sponge and began using it on his hair in a twisting motion.

“At the table?” Shelley complained, ever the lady.

He winked at her and shoved it into his pocket before turning his attention to Henry. “You could come,” the glint of mischief in his eyes growing, “but you’d have to wear something else.”

Henry stopped pushing his stew around with his poon. “What?”

Eddie smirked. “It’s the pants.”

“Nah,” Jarvis chuckled, “The shoes! What are those?”

Henry didn’t look uncomfortable in the least. “They’re skate shoes.”

“Do you skate?” Shelley asked, fascinated.

“He means skateboarding,” Jarvis corrected.

Shelley deflated and looked back down at her phone. I grinned at her noninterest.

“No, but I like them,” Henry edged slightly away from the table.

From next to me, Eddie chimed in, “Well, I like them. The khakis are what drives me crazy. They’re so—“

“White,” Jacqueria chimed in from the other side of Shelley. We all started cackling.

Henry smirked cautiously, “You got me there.”

“Besides, this is Mississippi, man. You are going to die in this humidity in those things.”

“Where did you even get those?” Jacqueria flipped her dark locks over her left shoulder and adjusted her purple tank top.

Henry leaned onto his elbow, resting his head in his palm. “My guardian got them for me. What do you suggest?”

My usual plan to avoid looking at him failed as I turned my head to study his relaxed manner and the easy way he looked so comfortable being the center of attention. With only a handful of white people at our school, it was difficult to avoid attention, but I managed to circumvent it as much as possible. As a wolf among humans, less attention was better. But there was something about the way that his mouth was set and the temperature of his eyes that made me realize that he was flirting with Jacqueria.

“Shorts,” I said curtly.

Eyes at the table turned to me. There was a gnawing feeling in my gut and a pressure on my chest. For the second time in an hour, my wolf’s opinion was clearly imprinted to the front of my brain. She did not care a bit that I didn’t want to be a part of this conversation, and she did not care if I wanted to crawl under the table and hide from the eyes of my friend around me. While Henry’s amused eyes studied my growing discomfort, my wolf was making it very clear to me that he was not to belong to anyone else.

That pressure on my chest made breathing more difficult. I looked down at my small salad and blocked out the sound of the conversation carrying on without me. My wolf’s feelings on Henry began to differ greatly with my own. He was obviously a spoiled pup, pampered in brand new clothes with a know-it-all, entitled attitude that made my teeth hurt. How could my wolf even want to claim someone like him? He was just an outsider, weak and watered down by city life with little breeding.

The wolf inside me did not so much argue as reassert her unwavering judgement. Henry is ours. We found him first. We had claimed him. She showed me the memory of him in wolf form and reminded me of what was inside of him—the dark, shaggy creature who had answered her call of distress the night before.

A sharp kick under the table brought me back. I glared daggers at Eddie, my lip curling back silently. He pointed to his eyes quickly, and I snapped my own shut.

“Everything okay, Atti?” Shelley said. She would look up from her phone.

“Yeah, are you alright?” Henry’s mocking baritone raised goosebumps down my spine, and I forgot about everything—school, humans, and secrets.

I slammed my hands down on the table and stood up, my chair clattering to the ground behind me and head tucked to my chest.

Just then, milk went everywhere. Eddie laughed, “Oops!” while everyone began to fuss over their clothes and phones.

I took the opportunity to leave as quickly as possible, not remembering how I got to the restroom as I pushed the bathroom door open. Expecting to hear it slam behind me, I turned when it did not. I growled, open-mouthed with teeth exposed at Henry who had followed me into the girl’s room.

That feeling in my chest enveloped me and crashed into him. I slammed him against the block wall, satisfied with the thick sound his head made against it. Eye-level with that chest, I could see my nails elongating to pin-prick tips, digging into his skin. I had expected pain of my own, but it all began to feel like a dark pleasure to morph just that small amount.

Snarling, I gnashed my teeth at his neck and continued to feel the thrum of a growl in my throat.

His gold eyes bore down on me like hot metal, his own fangs exposed in a low growl that vibrated into my hands. He didn’t try to push me away, but he was angry and defiant, hands in fists at his side. The cedar musk was hitting me in waves, mingling and filling my nostrils with the fresh blood now dripping down from the puncture wounds. I relished the scent, tasting it on my tongue from the air, and almost groaning at the ecstasy of having it so close again.

Faintly bruised yellow and green, my eyes were drawn to the bruise on his throat. I withdrew my claws from him and jerked his head to the side. He began to struggle, teeth snapping at my ear as I pulled him down and bit into his neck. Taking his flesh into my mouth, I broke skin and tasted the warm coppery juice on my tongue. I sucked and bit and growled that feeling still controlling me while he went from fighting me to pressing me closer. He ground himself into me, the wet of the blood soaking through my shirt.

My wolf purred and relished her victory at his consent.

Henry suddenly picked me up and slammed me into the wall. In my surprise, I released his neck and whimpered at the impact. His golden eyes pulsed with their own light before he pressed his mouth against mine.

Heat exploded through my body, rushing from my lips to every digit. I forgot my wolf and the blood on my mouth and body. I forgot that I hated him. I forgot that he was an outsider. I forgot everything but the feeling of Henry pressed against me, his hands tight around my wrists, trapping me against the wall. I fought against that when I was suddenly released. My knees went slack, and I slid to the tile floor, weak with the energy drain.

After a sobering breath, I looked up to find answers on Henry’s face—some sort of explanation—but there was only the row of sinks in front of me. I pulled myself up with them, meeting my own bewildered expression. My tan skin had a red hue, and my red curls were wild around my head like a halo. I flinched at the sight of blood on my camo shirt then held my hands up over the sink. Blood covered my fingers and rubbed into my palms. Throat convulsing at its taste in my mouth, I wasn’t able to stop the gagging clench of my stomach or the memories of my parents on their last night.

The ocean pulled me under as I bent over the sink and heaved.


	4. Chapter 4

Low, mournful howls hung in the night air. They did that after they “acted out,” as my mom used to say. Throat getting tight again from unshed tears, I fingered my bandaged arm that she had chewed on just a few hours before. My wolf had reacted to her in a way that had not been a problem during the last year that they had permanently become their beasts. She had territorially reacted to me as though I were just another stray wolf instead of her daughter. Even as a beast, my parents had still acted like—well—parents. 

Though they weren’t able to cook meals or clean the house, my mom and dad had remained watchful over my studies. I smiled to myself, remembering that only a few months ago, my dad would bark at me if he thought I wasn’t doing my homework as soon as I got home. Similarly, my mom would remind me that I had to eat, and I had better feed them so that they didn’t have to eat one of goats. 

Now, sitting on the porch and staring at the stars, I wondered if that would be possible again. Would my parents react as wolves towards me now that mine was a part of me? Would I have to worry about letting them out of their kennel every time I returned from school? Was it really any way for either of us to live?

I eyed the contents of the brown liquid in the black-labeled bottle next to me. It was a temporary escape from those thoughts, but it wasn’t working quickly enough. I threw back the bottle and gulped several times before slamming it back down and coughing through the burn. You’re such a cliché, I chastised myself. So much teenage angst. 

That thought made me laugh throatily. What about my circumstances was normal for a teenager? My wolf parents? My beast quickly consuming me? My secluded shack in the woods? 

Henry…

My thoughts drifted back to earlier, and my nostrils filled with cedar. I replayed how he had shoved himself between me and my parents, shifting effortlessly to protect me from the powerful jaws of my mother. There had been no hesitation, no debate whether or not I was worth the risk of being maimed or killed. 

I swallowed another gulp of the sweet bourbon. How could I be worth that much to him?

The mosquitos began to eat at my arms. I drew an “X” on the bug bite just like my mother had showed me when I was a little girl. When the itching subsided, I let out a loud sigh and chugged some more.

Howling began again, the two wolves harmonizing with one another in agonizing torment. My lips parted, and I added myself to their duet. When the chord ended, I took a deep breath and began again. The stars twinkled in response before my eyes glazed over. I lolled my head backwards and rested my arms over the side of the lawn chair before I drifted off. My head was floating freely, no clear thoughts forming. There was just the pine scent of the woods and the sound of my parents mourning the loss of their child.

“Atti,” a deep voice startled me from my slumber. I shot forward in the patio chair, clenching the armrests. Uncle Gunnis was holding my liquor bottle, noticing the half missing contents. “Real classy, Atticus Joan. Is this who you want to be?”

“Chill,” I grumbled, not meeting his eyes. I dragged my fingers through my curls. “It’s not like I’m on Uncle Jason’s level.”

Gunnis’ eyebrow shot up at the mention of our continuously drunk uncle, my great uncle. “Yet,” he quipped. “Let’s get you inside.” He moved to help me stand, but I stood up on my own, pulling my shorts down into a comfortable position.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled but swayed a little in the doorway. I was temporarily startled by couch cushions’ cotton stuffing covering the floor like snow. The curtains were half-hanging from the windows, tatters laying on the purged couch. The white wooden desk was still standing like an anchor in the opposite corner, only the chair damaged by my parents’ fit.

“Damn,” Gunnis grumbled and shoved past me. “Where are they?”

“They’re out back,” I followed him and blocked the way into the bedroom. “It’s fine! They’re fine!” He was glaring bullets at me. “I’m fine,” I mumbled.

He sighed and surveyed the bedroom’s damage. Once, the room had been described as “cute,” but now the mattress was leaning diagonally against the wall, springs exposed and more stuffing was intermingled with the tan sheets. The wooden bed frame was mangled by teeth marks and pulled to the center of the room. Toppled over, the pine chest of drawers lay on its side with the remnants of my clothes strewn about the room. My eyes finally landed back on Gunnis.

He seemed resigned to accept the evidence of his younger brother’s fate. “You can’t stay here tonight.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “Or what’s left of it.”

“But—“

“I know,” his hands balled into fists. “You’re fine. They’re fine. I got it.” He shook his head. “This isn’t what ‘fine’ looks like, Atti Jo.”

“I’ll get it cleaned up tomorrow.” I turned on my heel and went to the kitchen to get some water. My throat felt like I had swallowed cotton balls. The small room was practically untouched from the mayhem, and I grabbed a mason jar from inside the closest cabinet to the refrigerator. I was cracking ices cubes from the freezer tray before Gunnis followed me into the room. When I turned to fill the glass from the tap, he was looking through the screen door to the enclosed kennel. I pictured the brown wolves sitting alertly in the eight by twenty four feet cage. I walked under Gunnis’ arm that was pressed against the wood cabinet to see that they were staring silently at us.

“They loved you once,” he said softly.

“I know,” I didn’t hesitate.

“But they are just wolves now.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

He turned with inhuman speed to pull my arm into the air. Tearing off the bandages, he yelled, “Look at this, Atticus! Look!” The angry bite marks immediately began to bleed, and the wolves snarled and barked from their enclosure. “Did the things that did this love you?”

I cursed loudly and jerked my wrist away from his calloused hands. “It won’t always be like this!”

Gunnis laughed dryly. “You’re right! One day, you’re going to be human again, and they won’t treat you like a competing alpha.”

I started at his words, my mind finally sobering from sleep and alcohol. “What did you say?”

Gunnis turned and leaned back into the cabinets behind him. His blue eyes were condescending, “Didja really think that you’d be a beta?” Betas were the weaker of the two, followers to the alphas.

I squinted and bit the corner of my lip. “I kinda thought I’d end up alone in this house with my parents until I went crazy or died.”

He snorted. “Atti, you’re about to get a lot of attention. You’re already the talk of dinner gossip because of your latent change. Only some of the pack was foolish enough to believe that you didn’t have a wolf after the first full moon you were supposed to change. At the second, you nearly turned. The next is only a week away. You don’t think they haven’t heard about your shenanigans with Henry?”

I blushed deeply. “’Shenanigans’ sounds dirty.”

“Choose the word you want, but darlin’, you’re going to be the most powerful alpha that this pack has ever heard of,” Gunnis lowered his brow. “And you know that means a change in hierarchy.”

Anger rushed through me. “Spit it out, Uncle.”

He shrugged, suddenly apathetic in the face of my emotion. “Every woman will fight you, and every man will want to screw you.”

I shoved myself backwards from him. 

“You haven’t noticed, but they have. Everyone here has been thinkin’ of you a little more, lingerin’ on you just a little longer than usual. Hatin’ you just a little more.” Gunnis shook his head and crossed his tan arms across his chest. “If you thought you had problems, you definitely will at the full moon.”

At that, my wolf’s white form stretched in my mind, and I saw red momentarily when my eyes started to glow. Our anger was the same. This was our home, and we wouldn’t be bullied into fear. 

My parents howled anxiously, startling Gunnis.

My fingertips itched beneath the skin, but I held the change back, not surprised by it like I was with Henry at school. “Leave now,” I growled out, my wolf’s voice pairing with my own. She was always happy to fight, but we both agreed that there had been enough fighting with our blood today. We were hurt, and this alpha was crossing into our territory. Not only that, but he was trying to move us from it.

Gunnis’ eyes changed. “Dammit, Atticus,” he snarled and inhaled deeply, filling his chest, “I didn’t come here for this. I came to help.”

My upper lip curled back, “Leave us.”

A barking sound ripped his throat, “I will, but not before I tell you what I came to make sure you know.” 

I shifted to a defensive stance, my wolf sure that he had only come here to fight.

“Do not trust your new friend, Henry,” he spat the name like a curse. “A stray like him has no place in your life.”

The wolf’s anger was palatable, and I was lunging toward Gunnis before I could catch up to her. Mine! she was saying with every tense muscle and growl. She moved after Gunnis at an unstoppable speed, but Gunnis was faster. He was gone before the couch stuffing could settle through the front door of the living room. 

Breathing heavily, I began hitting the cabinets with my fists at my stupidity. Now you’re picking fights with the pack leader? I screamed, agonizing and long, while Andrew and Catherine Sullivan continued to howl long, mournful songs.


	5. Chapter 5

“Not going?” Louisa’s hands were on her narrow hips, her hair braided down and laying over her right shoulder. Her Carribean blue eyes were stormy with emotion. “Is this about the cafeteria?’

I stopped staring at her and went back inside my shack to gather more of the stuffing to throw in the burn pile. When I came out with an armful more, she was still talking.

“…not like Henry’s going away, so you’re gonna have to get over it—“

I scoffed, dropped the stuffing onto the larger pile of stuffing and went back for more.

“—and neither is your wolf, woman! So buck up, and get ready for school!”

I released the stuffing onto the pile and paused in my stride to look at her again. She hadn’t moved from her spot. 

Both of us turned to the wood line, about forty yards opposite the front of the house, to see Eddie charging toward us at full speed. He slowed down from a blur and almost passed us. “Good! I thought you guys had already left,” he was smiling and energetic, and he didn’t seem to notice my chagrin or Louisa’s stubborn expression. “Let’s go!” Then he looked me over. “Are you wearing the same clothes?”

I shrugged my shoulders and glanced back at the house. “Mine aren’t decent.”

“Forget to wash?”

“Really?” I smiled. “Did you black out yesterday altogether?”

“They got them too? Yeesh,” he laughed. “Well, let’s go. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” 

I frowned down at the bloodstains down the front of the camo and blue jeans then looked back up. “I’m going to pass on today.”

“She just doesn’t want to see Henry,” Louisa quipped, still disapproving.

Eddie’s face turned serious, “Maybe Atti has a point. She could probably use a day off.

“John Edward!” Louisa chastised. 

Burying my face in his chest, Eddie hugged me tightly before jogging to Louisa and grabbing her by the hand. “We’ll come help later!” He called over his shoulder as they picked up their pace and ran to the woods behind my house in the direction of the school. 

I tried not to think any more about yesterday as I continued to pick up the stuffing. I got smarter by filling up a trash bag with the fluff then emptying it onto the pile. Once I was finished with it and the floors were clearer, I eyed the couch thoughtfully. Could I pull it to the pile? It was pretty heavy. It took my dad and Gunnis to get it into the house. I didn’t want to go find help, though I probably could have asked any one of my cousins, because I just wanted to be alone. Plus, if what Gunnis said was true, now may not be a good time to start owing favors to anyone.

So, I scooted the couch sideways, dragging it on the hardwood floor. Surprised with how light it seemed, I heaved upwards and nearly fell backwards when I practically threw that end of the couch into the air. I stepped back quickly before it could land on me, and it hit the floor with a loud thunk. I chuckled at my new strength, was more careful when I faced away from the couch, picked up that end of the couch, and dragged the other end directly through the front door and down the porch steps. I easily tossed it into the growing burn pile and went inside for the mattress, not nearly as winded as I should have been in the morning sun. 

Soon, I had the stuffing, cushions, clothes, couch, mattress, and bed frame in an impressive stack in the yard. I swept the inside floors before I poured up some mop water with Murphy’s Wood Soap. All too quickly, that was finished, too. I wasn’t eager to find one of the tractors to haul the trash to the burn pile, but there wasn’t much I could do until the floors were dry. I would need to find a new couch or bed. If I could get a couch first, then I could just sleep on it until I found a bed. If I found a bed first, then I wouldn’t worry about getting a couch at all. 

Regardless of Gunnis’ opinion, I was planning on letting my parents live in the house as they had been. If they had another episode, I didn’t want to get them more things to annihilate all over again. The wood furniture had survived with some new scratches, but there was something too similar about ripping the stuffing from cushions to the tearing of flesh that they seemed to enjoy. It had been a bad year for couches.

I took off in the direction of the trail through the pine trees that Eddie had come from earlier, the direction of their house along with my aunts and uncles’ houses. I had no intention of seeing Gunnis, so I cut through the woods to the creek crossing. I lunged from the woods into the clearing just before the creek bridge, scaring myself and the kids standing there.

“Atti!” Raylon cried, clutching her chest. Simmy had moved in front of her protectively, but he was visibly relaxed when he noticed me.

I laughed at their faces before moving in to hug them. At seven, Gunnis’ twins stood almost to my armpits. “You’re getting tall,” I grumbled.

“Nah, you’re just short,” Simmy retorted.

I shoved them away playfully. “Is that any way to treat your elders?”

“Short and old,” he poked at my ego.

“You little—“ I chased them playfully down the dirt road that lead to the main house, livestock, and barn. I kept myself at a jogging pace to give them the illusion that they could outrun me, and their laughter was reward enough for my slowness. We passed the old silo—riddled with gunshot holes from target practice—and the corn fields until I pounced on them in front of the farm house under the Magnolia tree. Their high pitched screams as I tickled them on the grass just fed my joy to see them.

“Atti! Stop!” Raylon laughed forcecfully.

“I’m sorry!” Simmy finally said.

I immediately ceased the tickle torture and leaned back on my knees. “You’re forgiven,” I grinned. 

Raylon cupped her hand over eyes to shield the sun and said, “Is that blood on you?”

Simmy leaned forward and sniffed my shirt. It was something automatic that we all did, even as children when our senses were only human, because that was what our parents did.

I felt my face close down. I raked my fingertips through the top of my hair to get it out of my face. Before I could answer, I spotted Henry looking out of the window behind the twins. I groaned audibly.

“What?” The kids said at the same time and turned around to see him still staring at us from the window. He smiled and waved to them, not awkward in the least. They turned back to me immediately, faces inquisitive. 

“That’s his blood, right?” Raylon whispered.

I knew he could still hear us, so I didn’t bother to lower mine. “Some of it.”

She hesitated, “He’s kind of nice.”

“Yeah,” Simmy retaliated. “So stop hurting him!”

I couldn’t help the shock on my face. I was going to retort something about how he needed to leave, or maybe that I was here first and he needed to stop hurting me, but some of those things weren’t really true. I also never knew what they would repeat, so I didn’t say anything. Before I could settle on what exactly to say, they shot up and started running toward the chicken pens. One of their daily jobs was to collect the eggs, and there would be hell would pay if the eggs weren’t delivered to everyone’s houses before noon. I knew this because it had been one of mine and Louisa’s jobs at their age. Now, my chores were typically ones done in the evenings and involved slightly more complicated work. It just depended on whom needed help that day.

Henry had disappeared from the window. I needed to get inside to nab clean clothes for the day, and maybe even a few extra shirts until I could get a ride into Greenville for the closest Walmart. I was sure that this was considered a moment for the emergency money in the coffee can. The hundred dollars I had saved up over the summer would be enough to buy me five T-shirts and a couple pairs of shorts for school. I could do with borrowing clothes from the closet in the main house for work around the farm. Old Grandpa Matt wasn’t using them with him being dead and all. I was lucky my shoes had been on the front porch, locked away from my parents’ gnawing habits.

Resigned that I would have to at least acknowledge Henry, I climbed the wooden porch stairs and opened the wooden door. The main house, unlike my house, had air conditioning, and the cold air bit at my bare legs and feet. Henry’s tall, lanky form was already leaning against the doorframe of the infirmary bedroom when I entered. His warm brown eyes smiled at me, and I was struck by the familiarity he regarded me with. Today he wore a similar looking pair of khakis but with a plain black T-shirt, his hair messy and wet. His scent greeted me, and I found that it seemed to relax me today rather than entice my wolf. That’s new.

“Hey,” I finally stammered.

“Hey, yourself,” he grinned and gave me a once-over. “You look a little rough.”

Like I needed a reminder. I shrugged, refusing to let him get under my skin. “It happens.” We stared at each other a little longer, me just wondering when the other shoe would drop for my wolf. But for Henry, who knew what he was thinking or why he continued to stare? Was it the dried blood on my clothes or the wound on my arm? “I just came to grab some clothes.” I walked to the bedroom opposite of him and started fishing for something suitable. It was mostly camouflage, but I was able to find a few pairs of plain jeans that were about my size. There were even a few T-shirts that only had a couple of holes.

“Pretty inconvenient to keep your clothes all the way out here when you could keep them at your house.”

I turned with the small stack in my arms and walked toward the door. He would have to follow me if he wanted to talk because I needed to change and get going. The bathroom was all the way down the hallway, and his footsteps followed me until he realized that I was going to change. Then, like a smart man, he stopped in his tracks as I was shutting the door.

When I emerged, he was sitting on the wooden rocker, and he immediately stood at my presence. His mouth curved and eyebrow raised in an amused smile. “That’s… stylish.”

The blue jeans were far from that, and the oversized white T-shirt did nothing to conceal my black bra beneath it. I rolled my eyes and walked through the first door on my left to the dining room then the kitchen. In the large, modern kitchen, I rummaged through the drawers looking for scissors. Henry leaned his back against the kitchen counter. “Did your clothes get torn up?”

I pleasantly ignored him as I took the scissors to the thick blue jean fabric. I started a cut a little higher than mid-thigh on each leg, then I began to cut around to the seam. Louisa usually helped with the back of the leg, but I’d be damned if I asked Henry to come that close to me when things seemed to be going so well (and by “well,” I mean that we aren’t at the others’ necks). “Why aren’t you at school?” I tried my best to cut at an even length.

“I was trying to give you some space,” he laughed richly.

I couldn’t help myself but to laugh, too, and I looked up without straightening. “So, we both ditched school to stay away from each other. Nice.”

He was still smiling, but his eyes grew serious. “I don’t want to stay away from you.”

I concentrated on the jeans again. “Oh, yeah?” I finished cutting the jeans before I had another line for him, but I had always operated on silence being the best response in most situations. I straightened and threw the scraps in the trash bin in the cabinet underneath the sink.

Henry outstretched his hand like he meant to touch my arm and keep me from leaving, but I stepped back and crossed my own arms across my chest. He balled his hand into a fist then quickly shoved his into his pockets. “Atticus, may I help you with your house?”

My nose twitched at his change in scent, but I didn’t have a name for the emotion I was smelling. “What could you do?” I smiled and tried not to look too pointedly at his scrawny figure. 

He grinned good-naturedly. “I know I look malnourished, but I promise you that my wolf more than makes up for my appearance.”

“Point, sir,” I drew an imaginary line in the air. I relaxed my stance and began to think over what I had left to take care of at home. I shrugged. “Do you like burning stuff?”

He grinned wider. “Don’t most people?”

I chuckled and started to walk outside.

Once on the porch, Henry groaned. “How do you deal with this heat?”

I shrugged. He matched my pace as we headed to the large, open barn about thirty yards from the farm house. “For one, I usually wear shorts.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I don’t really have any.”

“Well, you can always make some,” I tucked my hands into my freshly cut jean pockets.

“I guess I just don’t have your talent.”

I met his eyes with a wry smile. Is he flirting with me? A pleasant scent was coming from him, sweet and sappy like honey over his usually spice. He was still smiling when I looked ahead to where we were walking. “Avoid air conditioning,” I added.

“You’re serious?”

I dodged a gopher hole. “Completely. The AC makes the heat feel worse when you go back outside. When you’re like us, outside is preferable, any how.”

“And what are we like?” Henry said lowly.

My skin went flush, and I knew I was red from head to toe—the redhead curse. It shouldn’t have made me blush; I was used to ignoring the occasional flirting from boys at school. “Wolves, Henry. You know what I meant.”

“I’ll admit I was trying to get a rise out of you, but please don’t get upset,” his voice was low as we approached the awning. “It’s an old habit.”

I grunted, but I inwardly chastised myself all the more that it was obvious I was bothered by his comment. 

Ahead, Gunnis was standing with his brother—my uncle—Danny and their brother-in-law Parker—my aunt Juni’s husband. Both men were in their thirties, a few years younger than Gunnis. They stood with matching tans and with nearly identical clothes; all three were wearing Dickies tan work pants and T-shirts. Uncle Danny had his signature Ole Miss football cap on, bright red with navy blue letters that spelled the name. “Atti!” He grinned.

Uncle Parker spit into the grass behind him, the wad of chewing tobacco apparent in his lip as he said, “What’s he doin’?”

I stopped a few feet away from them, and Henry stayed a foot or so behind me and to the side. “I need the old 4020 for some haulin’.” I nodded slightly to the older John Deere tractor to my left.

Gunnis wordlessly left; I hoped to get the key. I could feel the tension between us from our confrontation last night, especially showing up almost first thing the next morning with part of the cause of said confrontation. 

“How ya like Mississippi, son?” Danny asked, friendly.

Henry cleared his throat, obviously not used to the term of endearment. “It’s hot.”

“And humid,” Danny laughed. “God’s armpit, some call it. We call it home.” He wiped the sweat sticking to his forehead with his sleeve. It left his shirt with a dark impression.

“Whatcha doin’ with Atticus?” Uncle Parker grumbled and stared at Henry.

“I’m just going to help her with some yard work,” Henry replied coolly. I glanced back to see that he seemed to be suppressing a large emotion, and his smell indicated anger. 

Parker’s jaw clenched. “That it?”

“Yeah, that is all,” Henry enunciated every syllable. 

Parker made a sound that I could best describe as a harrumph, and then walked away from us in the direction of the corn field.

Henry appeared lost in thought, his arm muscles rippling and brown eyes smoldering. When Gunnis approached and dropped the key into my outstretched hand, Henry seemed to shake himself back into the present. “Don’t hurt her,” Gunnis called over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Like I could!” I called to him and was rewarded with a chuckle. Henry followed closely behind as I guided us to an old rusted and muddy tractor. The trailer was already attached to the back of it, but I checked to be sure that the ball was securely attached to the hitch. Then I nimbly climbed onto the tractor seat, inserting the key, listening to it sputter before it roared to life. I glanced over my shoulder, and Henry was already sitting in the trailer bed, arms stretched and perched on top of the rail. "Ready?"

"When you are," he smiled and winked.

My stomach fluttered, and I made my face return the smile. I took him in for a second longer before I remembered my nearby uncles who were, no doubt, staring at the scene. Putting the tractor in gear, I pulled it forward, paying attention to not hit any of the support beams holding the metal roof over us. I concentrated on taking the dirt path back to my plot, accelerating and gearing up to reach a staggeringly slow fifteen miles per hour. Simmy and Raylon waved at us from in front of the chicken houses, grinning when kicked my legs and shook them in the air. I felt laughter bubble up in my throat. 

Down-shifting, I slowed the tractor as we took an overgrown path into the woods. It was tight, branches and thorns reaching out and trying to grab at my clothes. I avoided the branches overhead by ducking, calling out to Henry if they were particularly treacherous. What do I care? I wrote it off as not wanting my help to get injured before helping.

I spared a look over my shoulder. Henry had moved to the center of the trailer, crouching and holding on to the rail. Satisfied, I focused on navigating through the trees. A wash out was straight ahead, run off from the creek causing a muddy patch for about three yards. I gasped it, accelerating up a gear, in anticipation that the tractor could become stuck easily if we didn’t watch out. The tractor roared as we hit the mud, the trailer bouncing, and then crawled up the small hill. Once we capped the top, I glanced back to see a bewildered but smiling Henry. I laughed throatily, though silent underneath the tractor, but it felt good all the same.

We reached the clearing to my house after another ten minutes of riding through the woods, and I parked the machine with the trailer bed mouth at the pile I had collected just a few hours ago. I cut the engine and leaped off of the seat, landing in a crouch before standing to face Henry. He was standing on the wood planks of the trailer, his nostrils flaring scenting the air.

I immediately did the same. “What is it?” I whispered though I didn’t smell anything off.

“I smell wolf,” he said in a hushed tone then catapulted himself with inhuman speed out of the trailer than in front of me, as though he were guarding my body. 

Trying to ignore the part of his body touching the front of mine, I rescented the air. Now, all I could smell was him—all cedar and spice—and my wolf was awake with the heat of my eyes changing. Except this time was different. This time everything focused sharply, colors more vibrant and textures more nuanced. I noticed that Henry’s hair wasn’t really black, that he had lighter shades of brown layered through. I involuntarily leaned forward into Henry’s neck, inhaling in the crook. I got a small high before my wolf made a small noise of pleasure escape my lips.

Henry growled. “Atticus, stop.” He grabbed my hand that had somehow ended up around his waist, then pulled me forward next to him. I rocked on my heels with the roughness then steadied myself. “Are they still here?” His voice had lowered an octave, and I felt the rumbling in my brain.

“Who?” I tried to think, to push past the drunk feeling.

“Your parents!” He growled and kept searching around us.

I frowned and scented the air. Their familiar smells were more pronounced than usual, but I knew that they were still locked in the chain link kennel behind the house. “Yeah, they’re out back. Why?”

Henry faced me, not calming. “After yesterday? They’re still alive?” He had grabbed both my wrists while he spoke.

My wolf let out her own growl. “Yes, and they’ll stay that way.”

“Atti, you can’t live with them here after they hurt you yesterday. And you’re here by yourself,” his lip curled and he snarled out, “unprotected.”

I shoved him backwards suddenly, and he slammed into the rear tire of the tractor. There was a second when I panicked, startled at my violence. Then Henry reared forward, growling as he righted himself. My wolf filled me, and I lunged myself forward to attack. My teeth went for his neck, but he was ready and dodged easily to the side then grabbed my right arm. I swung with my left, claws connecting with his shirt and slicing.

He released me then, dodging my attempts to slice through more of him. I pounced and threw my entire body weight on top of him then growled into his face, snapping my teeth in his face. His wolf answered with the same but stopped trying to dislodge me. My left claws were dug into his shoulder, and my right claws wrapped around his throat.

Henry’s eyes glowed gold, and his ferocity continued. “Go ahead, do it,” he continued.

My grip tightened around his throat.

“They deserve to die for touching you,” I barely discerned through the snarl.

The word “death” made my wolf pause. She hesitated. Could she kill? Could she kill the intoxicating drug beneath her? Could she kill him for protecting her?

That moment was enough for Henry to throw me on my back, reversing it so that he straddled above me. Suddenly he was bleeding above me, his face alien with his change starting. His teeth were bared and gritting together. My wolf recognized his wolf, and she wanted him to come out. “Atticus,” he breathed. “Please—”

Yes, my wolf pushed excitement through my veins. My mouth smiled with her happiness.

“—stop!” He jerked my wrists above my head, leaning away from my face. “Don’t know what will happen. I can’t—”

My growl cut him off. I felt my wolf stretching at me, pushing at my skin. She didn’t know how to stop, and she didn’t want to. My thoughts were lost to me as I felt her reaching out to Henry, reaching for the black wolf barely contained inside of him.

Henry’s body convulsed, and, in an instant, the black wolf ripped out of his skin. The feeling of his hands grabbing my wrists was replaced by large predatory paws. His large muzzle growled low less than a foot from my face, and those gold eyes were wild and angry.

My wolf was just below, and she sent her energy into him. She pushed her will out of my body and into his. I convulsed as the pain of resisting her change left me and charged into Henry. My howl became a scream that was joined by Henry’s howl. He collapsed on top of me, sedated by the pain.

I laid there, exhausted. My wolf had left.

I stroked the thick black fur resting on my chest. He whimpered sadly. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, and a single tear slid down. “This wasn’t me. I’m sorry.”

Henry rolled off of me making pained whimpers.

I sat up and brushed the mess of curls from my face. “Are you hurt?”

He made eye contact, golden eyes narrowing sarcastically.

It made me smile, but then I realized I had lost my help for the day. “You probably need to eat before you change back.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his maw. 

“Well, let’s go.” I lead the way into the house, aware that he was following. We passed through the bare bedroom into the kitchen, and I pulled out a pound of ground deer meat from the refrigerator with some Worcestershire sauce and an egg. I dumped both into a bow then added a sprinkling of Tony’s before making four burger patties and placing them in the iron skillet that pretty much stayed on the stove. Henry whined from next to me as the meat began to sizzle and the aroma filled the air.

When it was finally finished, I put his on a stoneware plate on the floor by the breakfast sized table. I drizzled my own single patty with ketchup before sitting in the chair facing the West end of the house towards the porch. Realizing how hungry I suddenly was, I dug into mine with a fork immediately. Halfway through, I realized that Henry was staring at me and hadn’t touched his. He whined again. “I thought you were hungry. What’s up?”

He nuzzled the plate towards me then barked once.

“He’s a vegetarian,” a voice said from the door.

I jerked my head up as Henry stood and turned to face his guardian, Silas. It didn’t escape my attention that Henry moved closer to my side.

Silas knelt and picked up the plate of three patties and sat down across from me. “May I?” He asked politely.

I didn’t take my eyes off of him, dressed in black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. “Explain,” I demanded curiously.

Silas chuckled, picked up the patty with his hands, and took a bite. He moaned in delight and said, “Delicious!” Then took another.

I looked down at Henry who then set his head on my thigh and rolled his eyes up to look at me. “You don’t eat meat?”

Silas laughed again. “Didn’t you wonder why he hasn’t bulked up like your cousins? He wouldn’t eat meat before turning, and he wouldn’t eat it afterward.”

I balked at Silas. “You can’t be serious.” I looked back down at Henry who wouldn’t meet my incredulous gaze. “Doesn’t your wolf want it?”

“Of course he does. Look at that monster!”

I cringed at the word “monster;” it’s not very popular around the farm—like a family swear word.

“Any ways, I heard Henry and had to come see for myself what was going on. Your uncle wanted to come but thought that he might make things worse.” We locked eyes, and I knew Gunnis had told him about last night. “But I see that you guys were just up to your usual shenanigans.”

Ugh, again with that word! I gave him a tight-lipped smile. Henry and I had known each other for a total of two or three days, and already we had a word attached to us.

Silas left the remaining patties on the table and washed his hands off in the sink. “Well, it has been a pleasure to see you again, Atticus. If you should need any assistance, please give a howl. I have some business to return to in the main house, so I won’t be too far.” He paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Though I imagine you can handle Henry just fine.”

Henry barked at his laughter and made to go after him, but Silas had already fled the scene. The black wolf retuned to my side, golden eyes glimmering.

“Well, it looks like you won’t be help for a while. All I really have to eat is meat and peanut butter.” 

He yipped and danced with his front paws, reminding me of an eager puppy. 

“Oh, he’ll eat peanut butter,” I rolled my eyes and stood to retrieve it. “Of course, he does!” I spooned out three large helpings of the smelly goo before returning to my food. “So, you won’t be any help for a few hours, but you can stick around until then.” Did I sound too hopeful? Why did I still want him here?

Henry looked up at me from the peanut butter and nodded his head once.


End file.
